Kiss And Dwell
by VanillaKokain
Summary: Marik is part of a long bloodline of mediums and has seen almost every kind of ghost there is; vengeful, lonely... He thought he'd had them all figured out until the apathetic specter Bakura comes along and messes everything up. And now Marik has to teach him how to love in nine days or else he'll be stuck in the middle forever! ...Not that Bakura's complaining. Being rewritten!
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: YuGiOh is owned by Kazuki Takahashi and all characters involved in this story are his (unless you know they aren't). Kiss and Dwell is a book written by Kelley St. John, and this story is based off of it.**

_Once upon a time, there was a mighty Pharaoh who ruled over the land of Egypt. He was blessed with the power of the sight, which allowed him to see the ghosts of the dead. For many years he didn't know what it meant, and he was haunted by the sight of the tormented souls that wailed for peace. He wanted to help them, but he didn't know how. Until he actually talked to one of the spirits._

_"I always wanted to sail along the Nile, just like you," the man told the king, glamour and admiration glimmering in his dead, black eyes. "But I was never able to when I was alive, and now that I'm dead I still can't." _

_But the pharaoh was stubborn, and he loved all of his subjects. So he ordered his servants to take the him and the ghost down the Nile in his boat on the next windy day. The ghost was so overjoyed that he was able to let go of all his regrets in life and he vanished from the mortal plain. The Pharaoh realized what he had to do then. He had to figure out what the ghosts had lacked in their lives and give it to them. _

_He spent the remainder of his life helping the dearly departed pass to paradise. But balancing the duties of a king and a meduim was hard work, and the stress ended up killing him long before his time. His most trusted servant, his beloved cousin and priest (as well as his successor) was the only one who knew of the Pharaoh's secret work with the ghosts. The new Pharaoh knew that the spirits still needed help, and without the dead king to guide them, they would be lost. _

_So he chose a family to bear the weight of this job. A very loyal family to the throne, whose descendants would continue to carry on the meduimship long after this family was gone. Each son was marked to show their devotion and their sacred duty. Each daughter had to be chosen, hand picked by the Pharaoh himself from his place in paradise. Yes, he still watches out for his subjects and the ghosts they care for, as he is the one who sends the ghosts to the mediums. And he will always be there to help the spirits who need him. _

"The end," Ishizu concluded as she closed the home made picture book, running her fingers over the bumpy cardboard cover as she studied each of her younger brothers in turn. "So, did you like it?"

Marik, the older of the twins by a little less than five minutes, had his pillow in his lap and his chin on the pillow. He seemed rather disinterested, that or very sleepy. "The pictures were weird," he said, pointing to the messy stick figures drawn in kohl on the cover. Ishizu sighed.

"Well, neither Odion nor I are very artistic, Marik. We tried our best." She pet the 9-year old's hair, smiling softly at him. "But I meant the story."

"I liked it!" Mariku exclaimed from his own bed across from Marik's. Between the two beds was a chair which Ishizu sat in now. "It's like what Father is always talking about, but it made more sense."

Ishizu turned her smile on him. "Thank you Mariku. And yes, it's exactly like what Father is always talking about. This really happened, you know." She drummed on the cover with her fingers, then opened it back up to the first page where a rather pathetic illustration of the pharaoh lay smeared on the wrinkled parchment. "Odion and I just put it in kid's terms so you two could understand it. We're those descendants. That's why you two are having your initiation tomorrow. You'll be marked, and then you'll be able to help ghosts just like Father and Odion."

"Except Odion was chosen, just like a girl," Mariku snickered. He put his hands over his mouth when Ishizu gave him a look, feigning innocence.

"Odion was very lucky to be chosen. Since he's not actually our blood, we all thought he would never have the sight. But the Pharaoh blessed Odion, just as he was blessed himself." She stood, smoothing out her skirt. "Now you two need to get some sleep. You have a very big day tomorrow. You're turning ten! And after your initiation we can have a party. Won't that be fun?" She watched each boy wiggle under his respective covers, then tucked them in and kissed them each goodnight. But when she went to kiss Marik's forehead, he turned away.

"I don't want to help ghosts," he murmured with a pout, glaring at the wall. Ishizu sighed and sat down beside him.

"I know you don't. None of us wanted to at first. But you'll find there's nothing more rewarding than helping someone no one else can help." She pulled him up and hugged the reluctant boy tight. "You'll learn to love it."

"No I won't."

"Oh, just you wait." She lay him back in his bed, fixing the bedsheets around him again and pressing an insistent kiss to his temple. "It's more fun than it sounds." She put the book on their small, two-shelved book case, then blew out the candles that lit the room. "See you two in the morning. I love you."

"I love you too," the twins murmured back. With a final 'goodnight', Ishizu closed the door, leaving them both in darkness and silence. For a few minutes, neither of them spoke, nor moved. They barely even breathed. After what felt like an eternity for both of them, Marik got out of his bed and padded over to the book case. After retrieving the book their siblings had made for them, he climbed in bed with Mariku. His twin made room for him, putting the blankets over both their heads and pulling out a small flash light from inside his pillow case. He turned it on, illuminating Marik's worried face and the book, which was turned to the last page where a man in blue held a golden scepter over a couple that resembled their parents.

"After tomorrow, we'll be able to see ghosts," Marik whispered, so softly it was hard for Mariku to hear him. Still he nodded, gazing at his brother as his brother gazed at the illustration.

"Are you scared?" Mariku asked him suddenly, drawing his attention away from the book. He was wearing the same expression as Marik, but it showed far less. He took the book from Marik and turned the page, showing him what Ishizu hadn't; a pictorialization of the designs that would be carved into their backs tomorrow, the mark of the mediums. Marik's lips tightened as he looked at it. He drew his twin into an embrace.

"Yeah," he admitted silently.

"Me too..."

Marik held Mariku closer, tucking his face into the crook of his neck. "It'll be okay," he hummed, even though he wasn't so sure it would be himself. He let Mariku push the book away from them and heard it fall to the floor. Then Mariku was clinging back. Marik pet his hair. "Ishizu said she'd be there for us. And Odion too. And Dad got it done too and he's okay." His voice was getting thick, and he felt tears sting his eyes. Even with all the support, he still really did not want to do this. He didn't want to get marked and he didn't want to help any stupid ghosts. He just wanted to be a normal kid.

Soon Mariku was asleep, wrapped tight in Marik's arms. The elder of the twins stayed awake though, worries for the future keeping him from sleeping. After what was finally hours, he drifted off into a restless, ghost-riddled, nightmarish sleep.

**Hello guys! I know that for some of you the discontinuation of Soulless was hard to take. So I'm happy to inform you that I will not only be continuing Kiss and Dwell, I'll also be re-writing it! Watch out for the updates!**


	2. Heatwave

**-12 years later-**

Marik was so hot. But he knew it had nothing to do with the strong arms wrapped around him, or the kisses being pressed to his neck and shoulders, or even the skilled hands massaging him through his tight leather pants. Nor was it the temperature of the room, seeing as how he and his current partner were not actually in a room. On the contrary, they were outside on the fire escape outside of Duke's apartment, dark clouds above them and the night air cold. The chilly breeze however did nothing to lower the temperature of his skin, and he had to bite back a growl when it only intensified. Damned Pharaoh. It always had to be before he got laid, didn't it? Always right before he got to the good part! He could probably go months without trying to get intimate with someone and the Pharaoh would never call on him. But the moment he unzipped his pants there a ghost would be, whining about being denied access to Heaven.

It had been a few weeks since his last assignment, and so far his theory had been correct. He hadn't seen hide nor hair (nor ectoplasmic goo) of any restless spirits. Yet he'd sat around, diligently waiting for the next needy specter to appear like a good little medium so he could whisk them away to their afterlife, wasting all of his time just waiting. He had soon grown tired of it, and figured that since no spirits were coming, he could mess around. So when Duke called him and invited him over to hang out -their code for "I'm horny, get your ass over here"- he hadn't hesitated closing the shop early and rushing over to his sort-of-boyfriend, more-like-fuckbuddy's house for a little down time.

But, as predicted, almost the moment he and Duke started kissing, the back of his neck had started to tingle with the tell-tale sign that a spirit was coming. Usually when faced with this sensation he would run home as fast as he could and take care of the spirit so he could get right back to the fun before another could show up.

But one could only run out on their partner so many times before they decided they weren't worth it. He had learned that the hard way after leaving so many others mid-fuck. He had been told to lose a lot of people's numbers in his life.

Thankfully, he had found Duke. Or, more precisely, Duke had found him. They'd met about a month ago when Duke came to the bike shop Marik ran, looking for some parts to a model they didn't even sell. They had established some sort of connection and had talked until Marik's usual closing time. After grabbing a few beers they had found themselves in Duke's bed, panting and laughing as they came down from a post-orgasm high.

They'd had many chances to fuck again after that, but because the Pharaoh always liked to interrupt Marik's fun they never got very far. For whatever reason though, Duke stayed. Despite being cock blocked so many times, he continued to ask Marik over and try to get him in the sack. Marik really didn't know what to think of it (nor was he sure all of Duke's lights were on) but either way he didn't really care. He was just glad that he had a certain someone to go to when the mood was right so he didn't have to worry about seducing total strangers.

And tonight, right now, the mood was right. He had gone without for weeks, and he was determined to get some tonight, ghosts and ghouls be damned.

Another hot tingle made its way up Marik's spine as if retorting to both those thoughts. Of course, damning said poltergeist would be so much easier if not for all these crazy side effects from ignoring the Pharaoh's summons. That, and this heat thing was a major turn off. It kept itching across his skin like a burning rash, making him fidget in Duke's lap. Finally, it brought the attention of his lover, and the man looked up at him from his hickey covered neck.

"You're so distracted, Babe," he mused as he brushed his fingers over Marik's nipple.

Marik frowned. "Just shut up and hurry."

Duke chuckled, oblivious to Marik's discomfort. "I've told you before, Duke Devlin does not like to be rushed." He ran his hands up and down Marik's stomach, unknowingly causing him even more pain as the touch scorched his already burning skin. "Besides, when I finally fuck you again I want you all here to feel the whole Duke Devlin experience."

Marik rolled his eyes. That was the one thing he hated about Duke, besides his arrogance. Was he hot? Yes. Was he good in bed? _Oh absolutely._ The only problem was that he was too _thorough_ for Marik, who was always in a rush because of his ghost problem. Marik could do without all the foreplay. All he needed was a quick release that wasn't from his own hand and then he could go for another few weeks. Just one little orgasm...

He growled as another wave of heat spread over him, this one feeling like it was under the skin, in his very veins. Literal lava was flowing through his arteries right now and he could do nothing about it. Damn it, damn it, _damn it_! Why couldn't he have chosen another guy to fuck around with who was only interested in shooting his load too instead of this foreplay-loving fool?

"Hey, you're distracted again," Duke reprimanded when he caught Marik's glaring expression. "What's wrong?"

Duke's voice broke through his cursing reverie. "Ah, what? Nothing..." He tried his best to let his anger dissipate, also doing as much as he could to ignore the fire in his muscles as he wrapped his arms tighter around Duke's shoulders. "I'm just getting so _frustrated_," he faked a whine and moved his hips to rub his ass against Duke's erection through their pants. He let out an exaggerated moan. "I just want you so bad... I'm so ready to come."

He knew Duke loved saucy pillow talk and vocal partners, and by now they'd have their clothes off thanks to Marik's little show. But now Duke just grinned, picking up Marik's hips and easing them into a slow rhythm. "Then I'll just have to teach you the concept of patience."

Marik groaned, half from the way Duke was moving against him, half from the shock of heat that seared his back. He tensed and rode it out with clenched teeth, Duke now either ignoring the strange behavior or not noticing it at all. Good gods, the heat was so intense now. He was seriously baking in his own skin. The fire seemed to brim and pulse from the scars on his back, feeling like they were being cut fresh once more for only a moment.

Wait, his scars?

No, but... That had happened so long ago! Why could he feel them now? Why-

In that instant his cellphone began buzzing inside. He groaned in fake annoyance, secretly relieved that he actually had a plausible excuse this time. Not another "I don't think I locked the shop door" or "This mole could be cancer I have to go get it checked out!" in example. Deciding it best that he leave before his scars started hurting again, he moved to get up, but Duke grabbed him and pulled him back into an embrace.

"Leave it," he growled, pressing a searing kiss on Marik's lips. He appreciated the aggressive intensity, but now it was too late.

"It might be important!" Marik objected childishly once he got the use of his lips back, relieved once again when Duke sighed and released him. He crawled through the kitchen window the same way he had gotten out, aware of a very annoyed Duke watching him as he grabbed his leather jacket from the floor and searched his pockets.

"What?" he said into the mouthpiece when he'd finally found it, though no one was on the other end to answer. It had actually just been his phone alarm, signaling him that it was time to close up the shop for real. But...what Duke didn't know wouldn't hurt him. "Yeah," he continued, feigning a conversation. He began pacing to keep his mind off the ever-burning heat. "I'm kind of busy... None of your business!"

Duke watched with mild interest as the blond continued the fake conversation, and Marik wondered if he was over doing it. After a few more "yeahs" of varying exasperation, he ended the charade and pocketed the phone. "They want me home. Sis doesn't want me to get caught in the storm." Which, because he knew how much Ishizu liked to worry wasn't technically a lie. He bent to pick up his discarded shirt, the heat crackling over his skin even fiercer than before. Damn it, his ghost was probably pissed that they'd been kept waiting so long. He felt a bit sorry for whatever old goat the Pharaoh had to put up with all this time, but as he heat crawled down to his legs, he took that sorry back.

"You can't just stay the night?" Duke asked, climbing inside. "It would be nice. Just the two of us, some candles." He grinned. "Wanna see if I can make you scream louder than the thunder?"

Oh gods, did he want to. Some other time. When he was not about to become an Egyptian s'more. "Sorry Duke," he said as he hurriedly tied up his boots. He had no time for any of this, he had to go!

Duke sighed, slumping dejectedly into a dining table chair. "Fine. Whatever. My right hand was getting a little rusty anyway."

Duke had made similar statements each time he left. He'd grown used to it, and though it usually did make him feel a bit guilty, now he couldn't care less as another bolt of heat shot from his scars, so intense he had to bite down on his lip to keep from crying out. Without another word or a proper goodbye, he ran out of the kitchen and through the front door, the blaze under his skin becoming only slightly abated by the rain that had started to fall in the few minutes he'd been inside.

**Well, not many changes here... So there's really not much too say... I kind of liked how I did the original chapter so it was really hard to rewrite and make different... also there were a lot of mistakes in this one, so if you see any, please let me know! c; and please stay tuned! **


	3. Meet and Greet

Stern blue eyes glared up at the cloudy sky as Ishizu Ishtar crossed her arms and waited for her little brother to return home. She bet his skin was blistering by now. Oh yes, she'd seen the parchment envelope appear in it's designated place on the sacred alter upstairs, Marik's name written in the customary ancient Egyptian symbols. But that had been nearly two hours ago. It didn't take long for Marik to get home from the bike shop, especially on that screaming metal death trap of his. And it took even less time for Ishizu to realize he was intentionally ignoring his summons and therefore, seriously breaking the rules. Oh-ho-ho, would he be getting an earful when he got home or what?

She couldn't help but wonder if he'd spontaneously combusted, or something equally messy. The thought both made her smile and brought fear to her heart.

The front door opened behind her as her other two brothers stepped out onto the porch of their three-story country mansion. One who was uninformed would have guessed the house would cost close to a million dollars, but in reality the family had only paid about three hundred thousand for it. It had been in a pretty poor state when Ishizu first set her eyes on it, and had obviously seen so many better days. If the peeled paint and water spots didn't put buyers off, the rumors about the old place most definitely would have. It was Domino's local haunted house, and no one had lived in it for over sixty years. Until the Ishtars moved in.

Of course, the family had been more than happy to purge their new home of all the past owners, their pets, and the stray ghosts all stuck in the middle. After that they rolled up their sleeves and got to work repairing everything and cleaning up. It had been hard, not to mention expensive, but somehow they were able to bring the mansion back to something that resembled it's original luster, despite all the chaos the tweenage Marik and Mariku tried to cause.

"Is he still not here?" Odion asked, coming up beside her to stare past their white iron gate in the fading light. Ishizu shook her head, not taking her eyes off the muddy stretch of road that lay beyond.

"Wherever he is, I hope he got laid," Mariku mumbled, reclining in the porch swing.

"Mariku!" Ishizu exclaimed, whipping her head around to give her youngest brother an appalled look.

The younger twin just leered back. "What? Have you not noticed how pissy he's been these last few days?"

"He probably knew he was going to get an assignment."

"Whatever you say, dear sister, but that was obviously sexual repression."

"You don't know that." Ishizu turned away, signaling the end of their conversation. Mariku snorted, but she was already back to staring down the road.

(For the record, it was a little of both.)

"You're worried, aren't you?" Odion questioned from beside her.

"Of course I'm worried!" She snapped back. "His summons has been here for two hours, and you know how clumsy he is with that bike when he's in a hurry! He's going to be so distracted, and on top of that it's raining... Oh, Ra, he's going to die if he isn't careful."

Odion put a hand on her shoulder. "He'll be fine. He always is," he said gently, smiling at his sister. He turned to his brother. "Mariku, have you tried calling him at all?"

"Yeah, about three times already. He's got no connection in this weather."

Ishizu covered her mouth with a hand and Odion shot Mariku a look, to which he just shrugged.

Odion rolled his eyes. Mariku seemed to be aloof and uncaring towards his twin right now, but Odion knew they were all equally worried about Marik, and they all had different ways of dealing with that anxiety. Ishizu fretted and paced, Mariku bottled it all up and Odion would busy himself trying to ease his sibling's worries.

"He'll be fine," he said again, his tone stronger. "Probably pissed off beyond belief and soaking wet, but physically unharmed." Just like an angry tom cat after a bath.

Ishizu put her hand on his and smiled gently, nodding her head a fraction. Her eyes returned to the road ahead of them, but where she had hoped to see a motorcycle headlight piercing the night, there was only darkness. The rain was still falling heavily, but as the wind picked up it started to fall in heavy, slanted sheets, pounding mercilessly at the roof and windows, beating the lawn. Thunder boomed in the distance, and she felt Odion tense.

"Relax" she said, gently elbowing him. "I heard it too."

"Same here," Mariku confirmed.

Odion relaxed and offered a weak smile. "And what about you two?" he asked, looking from one sibling to the other. "Any strange visions or weird smells I should know about?"

Ishizu nodded, grateful for the distraction. "Yes, actually. It could just be a coincidence, but I've had the same dream twice in a row."

Odion gave her a look that asked her to elaborate. "Oh?"

"Well, there's this Labrador puppy lying sick in an alley, and a man with no face takes it home, only to ignore it once it gets better."

"Any idea of that it could mean?"

"Yeah, are we getting a puppy? If so, it has to be a Rottweiler or something else badass like that." Mariku grinned and rocked back and forth in the creaky old porch swing.

Ishizu laughed. "It could be any number of things, but I do pray it's not a dog." Animal spirits, or pet ghosts, as the Ishtars liked to call them, were extremely rare. That didn't mean one wouldn't pop up every now and then, having gotten lost on their way to whatever afterlife there was for animals, or they stayed behind with their master. They'd seen some before, and they were the worst clients imaginable. If Ishizu was getting a ghost soon, she could only hope it was not a dog.

Both now turned to their younger brother, not having to ask the question, nor having to wait for an answer as Mariku's usual twisted smile fell, and his face turned sour.

"Blood." he said. "Blood and jasmine."

They needed no more elaboration than that. Another murder victim, it looked like, if not the murderer themselves. They found it strange, how Mariku always seemed to attract those kinds of spirits. Begrudging and vengeful, violent and atrocious. And if it wasn't any of the above, it was those who's life had been snuffed out by the aforementioned type. And fuck if he liked it, always getting the most pissy and whiny ghosts to deal with. Neither of the twins enjoyed their job, and with good reason. But as Ishizu had lectured them time and time again, it was their job, their sacred duty, to do everything and anything in their power to help troubled spirits cross. Their first, foremost, and only priority.

Which brought her back to the matter at hand...

"He is so grounded when he finally gets home," she grumbled to herself, crossing her arms again.

"You can't ground him; he's twenty one," Odion chuckled.

She sighed. "I suppose I can't... But I can always slash his tires."

"If you do that, he'll never forgive you."

"It would be worth it if meant he wouldn't be so far away all the time."

"But do you really want him home 24/7?"

"...Point taken."

Odion smiled, turning back to the house. "I'm going to get something cold ready for him." He said, half way through the door. "Do you too want anything?"

"Hmm, lemonade sounds good." Ishizu requested.

Instead of answering, Mariku just stood up and jumped from the porch, running off towards the gate at the front of their mansion.

"Mariku!" Ishizu called after him.

"He's here!" Mariku yelled back.

Ishizu looked towards the road, seeing the singular headlight from Marik's bike for the first time. Relief rushed through her so fast she completely forgot her well rehearsed lecture about responsibility and sacred duties and all her usual parental/big sister nonsense.

"Told you," Odion said before disappearing inside.

Ishizu smirked. Of course Odion had been right. And of course it was Mariku who noticed Marik's arrival first, even when he had been paying such close attention...

Oh well. He was home now.

~.~.~

Marik glared at the iron gate in front of him, getting closer each second, willing it to open by itself so he wouldn't have to stop and waste even more time opening it. He needed to get inside now, now, NOW. Augh, he was in so much pain he could hardly see straight! Damn it, that gate was not opening by itself. He would just have to crash through it when, wouldn't he?

No, wait, someone was opening it from the inside. His twin's face came into view as his bike's headlights washed over him. He began to slow- No. He couldn't stop, not right now, not even for his twin. He sped through the gate, past this brother, onto the concrete driveway, towards the garage, away from the house. No, damn it, that's where he needed to be!

"Go on! I'll put your bike up!" someone yelled after him. He screeched to a stop, sliding in a semi-circle on the wet pavement. Ah, that sounded good... Wait, someone was coming towards him.

He looked up and found himself staring at a mirror. No, wait, it was just Mariku. His twin was almost as soaked as he was, his usually spiked hair falling wet in a style similar to his own. He opened his mouth to say something, but his tongue felt like sandpaper.

"Just go," Mariku said, cutting him off before he could even make any noise. He nodded, letting Mariku take the handle bars of his precious motorcycle. It was unsaid that Marik would totally kick his ass (or try to, anyway) if he so much as scratched the paint. But he couldn't worry about that now! Not sparing his bike or his twin a second glance, he turned and ran full speed towards the house, his boots slapping at the wet pavement, then squishing the grass into the mud, and then he was on the bottom step of the porch, staring up into the cold blue eyes of his sister.

They stayed like that for several seconds, regarding each other silently until Marik licked the rain from his lips and forced his voice box to turn on. "I'm sorry," he whispered, not surprised when his words came out strained. Damn, he needed some water right now...

Ishizu stared at him for a few more seconds before stepping aside.

He raced past her then, ripping the front door open and flying inside. Odion was in the kitchen, waiting with some ice karkady* and a towel, which he gratefully accepted before pounding up the stairs two at a time. He paused for only a moment on the second floor to catch his breath, taking a few gulps of his drink. Then he was back to racing up the stairs until he was in the attic, staring at the sacred alter, his summons lying mockingly on top. He set his karkady on the coffee table in front of him, all but leaping over it to grab up the accursed envelope.

Sweet relief washed over him, the fire under his skin being extinguished the second his fingers touched the parchment. He let out a huge sigh, falling onto the couch across from the alter. Oh man, when had seeing a summons ever felt so good? He had almost lost the feeling in his limbs, it had gotten so bad. He toweled his hair, putting his feet up on the coffee table as he studied the ancient text on the envelope. They'd tried to arrange the furniture in the attic so it resembled a living room, their quote-unquote scared alter being the center of attention, like a fire place. In reality it was nothing more than a huge stone slab with a bunch of ancient carvings and slots for all their sacred items, which were their connection to the Pharaoh in his afterlife. Marik sort of liked to think as the golden trinkets as a paranormal fax machine that sent ghosts instead of faxes.

He continued to stare at the envelope, sipping at his karkady, both relieved to see it in his hands and pissed that it had caused him so much pain.

Lightning bolted across the sky, the following thunder shaking the windows. He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, rule two freaking million, don't question the works of the almighty pharaoh, or something like that..." he said spitefully.

Thunder crashed again, but he was too busy wondering what kind of ghost he'd gotten. It hadn't shown up yet (not that he really wanted it to...) but right now he just wanted to get this all over with and get off with his life.

He slipped his finger under the wax sealing, hearing the crack as the paper separated from itself. He brushed the wax crumbs from his lap, then turned back to study the letter inside. His name was printed again in ancient Egyptian hieroglyphics. He read the rules that followed. He could repeat each one of them backwards while being tied upside down and possibly underwater, but it was one of the many unwritten rules that you had to read each one before you could accept the spirit. You'd just go back to your previous state if you skipped over them, as he'd learned the hard way.

For some reason, the pen strokes always seemed broader on his summons after that.

_Designated Rules of Mediumship_

_All rules are set forth by the Humble and Endearing Pharaoh Atem. Rules are not subject to change and should be followed without objection or animosity._

Except Marik had a lot of objection _and _animosity. Oops.

_1: All Mediums must heed the call whenever they are summoned. Failure to do so in a timely manner will result in inconvenient and/or painful reprocussions. _

_2: The moment the Medium has accepted the Spirit, an emotional as well as mental bond is formed that remains until all the requirements for the Spirit passing have been met. This bond must never be abused by either party, and should never be taken for granted. _

_3: A Medium must never lie to a Spirit. Additionally, a Spirit is incapable of lying to a Medium. _

_4: Should the Medium call on the Spirit, the Spirit must go to them immediately regardless of what they are doing at the present time. Likewise, should a Spirit need the Medium, they must tend to them promtly. _

_5: A Medium may never touch a Spirit. _

He cleared his throat, finishing up the rules. Then he closed his eyes. "I, Marik Ishtar, sacred guardian of the deceased, accept this spirit," he said. A sudden wind filled the room, ruffling his hair. He couldn't help but get a little excited at this point. When he opened his eyes, he'd find his spirit. He would learn everything about them; their name, age, the details of their life they were willing to share, how they died. Everything was a mystery to him now. While he didn't enjoy knowing too much about his spirits, he couldn't help but wonder all of these things as he sat there on the sofa, breathing in the fresh air that surrounded him. As soon as he opened his eyes...

He'd be disappointed to find the same old room he'd left.

Damn, this ghost sure was taking its sweet ass time to get here, wasn't it? Oh well...Might as well read its stats while he could.

_Name: Bakura Touzoku_

Ah, so he'd be getting a guy ghost.

_Current status: Access denied_

That much was obvious.

_Cause of death: Not specified_

It never was. He'd all but demanded that they leave that part blank after one too many horrific deaths explained in equally horrific detail. Besides, he'd rather the spirit have the choice of telling him how they met their end.

_Requirements for passing: Learning to love_

...What.

Marik stared at the hieroglyphics for a few seconds before face palming. How cliche! Honestly. Who was held back for not falling in love? Staying behind to pass on a message of love to a spouse or child, maybe, _but actually learning to love? _What, was he in a cheesy romance movie?

More thunder. He barely reacted as he continued to read on.

_Case #19-006-70: Bakura Touzoku; Denied entry to selected afterlife due to his inability to achieve love throughout his twenty-six years of existence. While client has experienced his fair share of physical bonding, the aforementioned refused to open and/or give his heart to anyone and/or feel love for anyone. Requirements to rectify this is learning to love, but is not limited to the following: Comprehending the emotion, forming a strong, deep and/or emotional bond to someone or something living or otherwise, or falling in love._

Marik scowled. So...What? This guy needed to learn _how_ to love, but he didn't have to understand the concept, or feel it? Or it could just be one of the above? Then just what the hell was he supposed to do? And what about this part? "Experienced more than his fair share of physical bonding." Fuck, this dead guy had more of a sex life than he did! He was liking this _Bakura_ less and less as he read on, and he hadn't even met the man yet!

_Allotted time: Nine days_

…

WHAT. He was stuck with this uncaring hardass for nine freaking days? And in those nine days he was supposed to teach him that there was more to life than just sex? Well...Okay...

That was fucking impossible! What was the pharaoh thinking, sending this ghost to him!

The following thunder was so loud he jumped and dropped the paper. He could only imagine what poor Odion's reaction to that had been.

He put his hand over his heart as if to calm it."Yeah yeah, I didn't say I wouldn't do it. Already freaking accepted him..." he mumbled. He bent and picked up the paper, rereading the paragraph, scowl deepening when he got to the last part. These things always hit home... He always got the ghosts with the relationship issues. "I'm just wondering how I, Marik Ishtar, the man who hasn't been blessed with an honest-to-gods, rock-my-world, curl-my-toes orgasm in more than a month from anything other than my own hand is going to teach this relationship-challenged apparition to love!"

"Funny, I was about to say the same thing," a raspy and extremely British voice said from behind him.

Marik visibly winced, slowly turning around to face his spirit. So. Not. Good.

And there his spirit stood behind the couch, arms folded as he leaned against the wall, a devilish smirk on his angled face. He was pale, oh so pale, but it suited him so well. His hair was even whiter than his skin, styled so wildly it looked as if he'd never brushed it, but it looked to silky that couldn't possibly be right. And his eyes...Oh gods, his eyes...They were slanted gracefully like a cat's and black like every other's ghost's eyes, but somehow these two were so much more intense, almost as if they were staring right into his soul. They were both hot and cold at the same time, shining with amusement even as they regarded him dully.

Marik swallowed around the lump in his throat.

"Well," the spirit laughed, his deep choice sending chills down Marik's spine. "I have to admit, that was one hell of an impression, _Marik_."

***Karkady is an Egyptian tea made from boiled hibiscus petals and sugar. **

**Again, not much change in this chapter, since I also liked the original version. Just tried to fill in a few holes, and hopefully answered some of your guys' questions. if not... **

**Yes, Mariku always gets murder victims/the actual murderers themselves. Marik usually gets the relationship challenged ghosts. You'll have to wait and see what sort of ghosts Ishizu and Odion get. c; **

**None of the siblings have any powers other than mediumship; Ishizu's visions/dreams and Mariku's super smell are their little signals/consequences for ghosts coming (like Marik's neck tingling). Odion hears thunder when his ghosts are coming. And yes, all of them handle ghosts. **Mariku and Ishizu have their own ghost coming on the way, can you guess who they are?****

**Sorry if it was still confusing! I'll try and answer all your questions, whether in PM or in the story! If you're confused at something, just ask! Don't be afraid, I don't bite. Also, if you see any mistakes, please don't hesitate to inform me. Anyway, thank you for reading and please stay tuned! **


	4. Chick Flicks

Marik could only stare dumbly at the shimmering ghost behind him, his jaw becoming slightly unhinged in his daze, both from the shock of just how good looking Bakura was and the realization that he had probably been there too long. Oh, very not good. He couldn't believe he had been caught saying something so personal and embarrassing by his spirit. Nor could he come to terms with how gorgeous Bakura truly was. You know, in the, "this guy is going to ruin my life" kind of way. What the hell was the pharaoh thinking, sending one of the most alluring ghosts in the history of ghostdom to him? Did he not know Marik had enough pent up sexual tension for an entire armada?

No, no of course that bastard pharaoh knew of Marik's non-existent sex life. That's why he kept interrupting all his would-be escapades and delivered a total hottie of a ghost right to his doorstep. Because the pharaoh hated him and most definitely wanting him to suffer. He couldn't wait until he was fined with breaking the rules because Bakura had made his boner come back full force just by announcing his presence. Abuse of the bond they shared and what not. Then he'd get to deal with the consequences of his actions that were literally so bad no one was in the right state of mind to talk about them afterwards.

Oh, but he couldn't help but feel something for Bakura, mostly in his pants. He was the worst medium in the world.

Bakura smirked at him, those deep black eyes going half-mast. "Please, I know I'm handsome, but if you keep your mouth open like that spiders will crawl in there and lay eggs."

At this, Marik's mouth closed with an audible click of teeth. There was silence in the room for a long moment, save for the thunder echoing in the distance and ran pelting the house as the human and ghost regarded each other. Marik could not think of one intelligent thing to say while Bakura...Bakura was totally content with letting Marik suffer through the silence. Calling himself handsome had just made Marik look even closer at him, noticing the rest of his body. He had a lean build, with sparse muscles and long, graceful legs. He stood with his arms over his chest, one leg propped up on the same wall he leaned against, looking like a typical after school special bad boy with his long, black trench coat. His shirt and jeans hung from his body, oversized on his lacking body.

Marik caught himself staring at the sagging fabric between Bakura's legs and forced his eyes back up to Bakura's face. A silvery eyebrow arched over one coal-black eye curiously, but still the medium said nothing. He was too busy looking over Bakura's face, taking in the dark rings under the ghost's eyes, the collapsing skin near his cheek bones, the light stubble on his cheeks that was only visible due to the white glow surrounding him, highlighting the short, prickly hairs.

When one took all of this into consideration, Bakura really wasn't all _that_ attractive. Especially in comparison to the healthy looking muscle mounds Marik usually sought after. But Marik could not bring himself to look away from this ghost. Was it just his presence? How he carried himself? Marik did usually go for the "bad boys". Or was it that other worldly illumination that flickered around his frame, making him look like some undernourished god. Or could it just be their bond was already bringing them closer, and was agitating his earlier desires for Duke? Yeah, yeah that was it. He'd go with that.

Clearing his throat, Marik finally forced out a greeting. "Hello..." His throat was suddenly so dry again. He swallowed and turned away from the ghost to take a long drink of his tea.

Bakura seemed unimpressed, rolling his eyes at the less than amusing reaction. "Yes, hello."

Marik licked the karkady from his upper lip, searching for more words to force out. "You have an accent," he noted. Maybe that was why Bakura seemed so sexy. Being British automatically made a person 50% hotter, right?

Bakura raised his eyebrow again. "As do you."

"Yeah..." Nodding, Marik swallowed around the lump in his throat. Why was this so awkward? Wait, never mind, he knew why it was awkward. He just didn't understand why he was letting it be awkward. When he wasn't ignoring summons and cursing the pharaoh he was the no-nonsense sort of medium, getting right down to business with each of his ghosts to get them out of his hair as quickly as he could. If this were an ordinary meeting with an ordinary ghost, Bakura would be spilling his guts about some high school crush that had broken his heart and made him swear off love forever and Marik would already be forming a plan to get him to fall in love with the next suitable woman they came across. As it were, Marik was just sitting there, wishing he was the ghost so he could disappear into the floor while Bakura took some enjoyment from his discomfort. And why? Because his body just had to decide Bakura was pretty enough to have a reaction to.

_Come on, say something else,_ Marik commanded himself. He pursed his lips, motioning to the ceiling. Rain was still pounding mercilessly against the roof, almost as if Mother Nature herself was laughing at Marik's embarrassment. "It's raining," he pointed out quite lamely.

Bakura looked up, nodding. "So I've noticed."

Marik visibly winced. "That's why I'm wet."

"Really?" His voice was heavily laced with sarcasm. "Why, thank you so much for clearing that up! I was under the impression that you were dripping with sweat." He tilted his head, a grin pulling at his lips. "Though, from all of those bruises on your neck, I can't be blamed for misunderstanding." Now he feigned an apologetic expression, adopting the sort of mushy tone you would use with a child. "Were you with someone when I came knocking, Marik?" Marik blushed, and the ghost grinned more. "Did I mess up your chances for an honest-to-gods, rock-your-?"

"Shut up!" Marik cut him off, suddenly finding his voice. With a glare he pulled the collar of his jacket up to try and hide any other marks Duke had left on him from Bakura.

Bakura laughed, the sound so dark it made Marik shiver, yet so mirthful it was obvious Bakura delighted in the teasing.

Marik frowned. Apparent good looks aside, this guy was an asshole. As if some hypnotic spell had been lifted, Marik's nervousness and discomposure melted away only to be replaced by anger and annoyance. His summons just _had _to come during his alone time with Duke, and he just _had_ to get a ghost that had more of a sex life than him, and he just _had _to be fucking attracted to his off limits asshole. This was turning out be a real fun assignment, and they hadn't even known each other for ten minutes yet! He was not going to last the next nine days.

He forced himself to take a deep breath. No, no use at getting angry. Not at the pharaoh, not at himself and not at Bakura. Anger didn't get anything done. Level headedness and patience, and force got shit done. He'd need it. Sighing loudly, he rubbed his eyes with the pads of his thumb and forefinger. He had to get his mind off sex, as well as he slow burning hatred he was beginning to feel for Bakura. The sooner he got over those, the sooner he could get on with his job, and best of all, the sooner Bakura would be on to his afterlife and he'd be screwing around with Duke again.

Easier said than done, of course, but he got points for trying.

"Why don't you just have a seat?" he offered with clenched teeth, motioning to one of the many arm chairs that faced the alter in the middle of the room.

Bakura snorted, but pushed himself off the wall and glided forward. He passed through the couch on his way, not looking at Marik. "And what? Listen to you spiel about how wonderful my afterlife will be? Or are you going to ask me about what a sad life I had so you can make it all better in death?" He plopped into the chair, dropping his feet onto the coffee table, making Marik's glass rattle. Marik raised a brow at this -most ghosts, especially newly departed ghosts, usually fell through furniture and walls and the like if they put enough of their weight on them. But he disregarded it. He'd known a few talented ghosts who could manipulate their surroundings or themselves enough to where they could comfortably sit down or pick something up. It was unusual, but after a time it stopped being impressive.

He put his own feet on the table, near the edge away from Bakura's to avoid accidental touching. His arms draped over the back of the couch, and though he still had a big of a problem trying to break through his zipper, he put on a great show of being utterly comfortable. When he spoke, it was as if he'd never stumbled over his words in his life. "Actually, I know exactly what you lacked in life, so we can skip all that bonding bullshit." He didn't know if Bakura knew they were already "bonded", but he decided that wasn't important. "I'm sure you want to get on with your afterlife as quickly as you can, so-"

"I don't, actually."

Marik studied him. "What?"

Bakura passed a critical gaze over him, like he was wondering whether or not he could trust this medium with his secrets. Then he grinned and relaxed back in his chair, putting his arms on the arm rests. His fingers curled around the ends of them, and Marik noticed with a slight interest that they were long and bony, each one looking tensed with some unknown purpose.

"I have no interest in the afterlife," Bakura said smoothly, bringing Marik's attention back to his face and the matter at hand. The ghost tilted his head back to gaze at the ceiling and the cedar beams that supported it. "I dislike the thought of having to spend eternity in my own little paradise. Or hell, I should say." He smirked like he was remembering a joke Marik wasn't in on. Then he shrugged like it was no big deal. "What's the fun in that, really? No surprises, no challenges, no goals. Everything's perfect. An eternal Hawaiian cruise."

Marik began to respond, but then closed his mouth again. He couldn't say much to it either way since mediums were given a choice as to where they wanted to spend their afterlife. "But," he ventured carefully, remembering something interesting Bakura had said. "If you're here, that means you weren't in line for reincarnation. Nor were you so horrible in your life you were sent straight to Hell." He smirked a little when Bakura looked surprised. How bad had he been when he was alive to be expecting a ticket to damnation?

Putting his feet back on the floor, Marik leaned towards Bakura, suddenly very interested. He really couldn't help liking his job a little bit. Especially after seeing that look on Bakura's face. His smirk grew. "So... I'm getting the feeling that you chose to stay in the middle, not because you never fell in love like the papers say-" He tapped his summons. "-but because you were really afraid you'd wind up in Hell. Right?"

Bakura held his tongue, a troubled shadow passing over his face. Then his eyes narrowed. "Bullshit. Like I'd be afraid of Hell." He snorted and turned away from Marik. "I was in line for Heaven. The old asshole at the gate said I didn't pass and that I'd be sent back for reevaluation." He glanced over to see Marik's reaction, then averted his eyes again. "Then some fucker with stupid hair and a lot of gold pulled out a giant file with my name on it and read it. Read the whole god damn thing. Then he said, 'Oh, I'm sorry, looks like you never fell in love. Too bad.'" The voice he used to quote the pharaoh reminded Marik of Barney the Dinosaur, but he said nothing and listened as Bakura continued. "Then he said not to worry, he'd find someone good to help me fall in love so I could get to my afterlife. And here I am." He passed a pale hand over himself.

Marik nodded slowly, but didn't speak. For Bakura to remember that much from his trip to the gates... Extraordinary. The rest of the ghosts he'd talked to never recalled much more than talking to the pharaoh, but even though he always left an impression they could never remember what he said, much less what he looked like. He rubbed his chin, wondering why and how this could be, aware that Bakura was studying him but not exactly caring. And then that last part. The pharaoh would find someone good to help Bakura fall in love. He finally looked up.

"So this guy chose me," he said, cocking his eyebrow. Bakura snorted again.

"Yeah right. You're the sixth... No, seventh medium he's sent me to." When Marik's jaw flopped open, he smirked. "Yup. Lucky number seven. So Marik, will you be the one to send me packing?" He slowly turned his body back towards his medium, eyes growing even darker. With his pale skin and dead eyes, he looked even more like a god, one that was ticked about a lack of virgin sacrifices. "Because I promise you it's not that easy to make someone fall in love. Especially when that person laughs at the very idea of love."

Marik stared at him before just flopping back onto the couch with a groan. Perfect. PERFECT. Mother fucking perfect, that's what this was. Oh yeah, nothing like having the worst client ever. Bakura just had to tack that information on too. Seven mediums? What was he going to do? He rubbed his forehead, feeling a headache coming on. "Why?" he asked.

"Why what?"

"Why do you..." He wasn't sure how to phrase it, so he threw his hands out to his sides like the motion would make it easier to phrase. "Why won't you let yourself fall in love? Do you want to spend eternity in the middle?"

Bakura didn't even hesitate. "That's exactly what I want to do."

That just had Marik making more vague hand gestures. "_Why?_"

The spirit grinned, raking his eyes over Marik like a carnivore selecting his next meal. "Because the middle is so much fun."

Now Marik was even more confused. It just didn't make any sense. Why would a ghost ever want to stay in the middle for fun? Certainly for the fear of the unknown. Maybe the fear of going to Hell. Even some sort of warped vengeance after a traumatic death was more sensible than staying behind for fun. What could a ghost even do in the middle? Scare people. Maybe move some things around. Chill the room. Flicker the lights. Make kids cry to their mothers at night and Supernatural fans scream for salt. Was that seriously Bakura's idea of fun?

Bakura seemed to sense his thoughts and drifted back over to the couch, letting himself come to rest beside Marik. "You've got it all wrong, Marik," he purred, not faltering when Marik shimmied away from him. He wasn't really surprised that Bakura was reading his mind. Their bond had developed fast, and was just getting stronger each minute. He could even feel some of Bakura's emotions now. Amusement, worry, desire, and arrogance, all wrapped up with a nice ribbon of devious cravings. Marik shifted even further away.

The ghost either didn't notice or didn't care. He just continued with his little musings, holding Marik's attention captive. "See, after being passed back and forth from incompetent medium to incompetent medium, I'd gotten a good look at the middle. I liked what I saw. There were no rules -outside your jurisdiction," he added when Marik opened his mouth. "Nothing bothersome to worry about like eating and sleeping or burglar alarms, but just enough challenges for me to tackle. I could have my fun and then I could relax, and then I could have more fun. Then maybe I'd scare some kids out of an abandoned house, or misplace a car, or steal something valuable. Sometimes people tried to exorcise me. I loved it, but it was in no way paradise."

He looked at Marik closely, lips curled in a smile, his eyes pleading with him to understand. Marik was tempted- oh so tempted, especially when Bakura leaned closer and he could feel the chill of him against his chest. But he knew Bakura had to move on. Ghosts and time did not make a happy couple. After a few decades, even the most cheerful ghost could become a malicious poltergeist. Taking a breath, he opened his mouth. "You know... That might be your paradise. All of that." He swallowed uncertainly and leaned away from Bakura. "You never know."

Instantly Bakura's smile dropped and he pulled away, letting himself float into the air. He looked as if he'd just been betrayed by someone he'd considered a close friend. The shimmering white glow around him seemed to intensify, and Marik felt a rise of foreign emotion enter the back of his throat.

"You know... Foolishly, I actually expected you to understand," Bakura said absently, staring right through Marik. "You hate what's expected of you just as much as I do. Going to Heaven. Helping people get to Heaven. It's all bullshit." He turned and flopped back into the chair he'd sat in previously, for all the world resembling a child in time out.

Marik swallowed around the ball of emotion in his throat, a little surprised at Bakura admitting that. He knew he was only saying all of this because of the bond they shared now, but... he'd never had a bond so strong before. It was like Bakura's emotions were his own, as raw as they'd be if they were being experienced firsthand. He opened his mouth several times to try and say something to Bakura -apologize for not agreeing with him, or ask him why he'd expected Marik to understand in the first place- but after several failed attempts to communicate, he sighed and flopped back into his respective seat as well. Most of what he was trying to convey would get to Bakura either way.

Bakura scowled at him. "Everything the middle has to offer beats any paradise that awaits me, you know," he mumbled, almost to himself. "I'm staying here whether you like it or not."

That did it. That pushed Marik's biggest button. He hated when people questioned his authority. Especially ghosts who should be grateful he'd even consider helping them find peace. _Especially _especially ghosts whom he didn't really even like in the first place. He stood up, hands balling into fists at his sides. He strode over to the alter, his wet boots squishing out water with the force of his steps. "Sorry, Casper, but that's where we disagree. See, I'm going to teach you how to love whether you like it or not, and you'll be on your merry way to the afterlife and I'll get back to my life." He stopped at the altar, touching his fingers to the rough limestone. He traced the hieroglyphics explaining the first medium's duty, then glared at Bakura. "Got it?"

Bakura returned the glare before pushing himself back into the air, gliding over to him. He cocked his head, his black eyes flashing. "What? Getting cockblocked by ghosts?" He smirked, getting right in Marik's face so the tips of their noses were nearly touching. This time, Marik didn't move away. He stood his ground, setting his jaw in determination. "I propose we make a deal," Bakura continued, his raspy voice low. "I give you nine ghost-free days where you'll be free to have as many curl-your-toe orgasms as you like, and you forget about me until our time together is over."

Marik's nose wrinkled in disfavor. "I can't do that." He gripped the edge of the altar.

"Oh yes you can. You aren't punished for not being able to help a spirit, right?" He pulled himself onto the altar, sitting himself on the sacred items that lay peacefully in their place. Marik had to bite his tongue to keep himself from screaming at him. "You're not the first medium I've been to, Marik. Seven in all. No one can help me. I'm a lost cause. So forget about me. I'll become some tourist attraction somewhere. Bakura the Unfriendly Ghost." He cackled at the play on Marik's earlier nickname.

Marik growled softly. He could handle being attracted to off-limits ghosts. He could deal with those ghosts being total dicks to him. He could even come to terms with the fact a dead guy might have had more sex than he ever will. But to ignore his responsibility? Just because some spirit didn't like the idea of paradise? No way. He might not like the job and he probably hated dealing with shitty ghosts all the time more than anything in the world, but that did not mean he was going to take the easy way out. He would have been marked for no reason if he did that.

He was about to blow up at Bakura about just how much he did not give a fuck about Bakura's afterlife pickiness and that he would be getting his ass there one way or another, but just then Mariku entered the attic.

"You and your ghost. Out," the younger twin commanded, jerking his head towards the stairs. His hair was still wet, and it hung stringy in a style not so unlike Marik's. His voice was strained but cold, and his usually wide eyes were narrowed in discomfort. Though he was good at not showing emotions, Marik could easily see he was tense and worried. All anger at Bakura faded immediately, and he took a step towards his brother.

"You okay?" he asked, though he already knew the answer.

Mariku growled and snapped at him. "Out!"

Marik flinched slightly, holding his breath as he nodded. "Yeah..." He looked at Bakura, mimicking his twin and nodding towards the stairs. Bakura was disgruntled to have to actually obey the medium, but Mariku glaring at the two of them was making him uneasy. He wasn't one for feeling fear, but this man just oozed things to be afraid of. He hopped off the altar and lowered himself through the floor, down into the kitchen. After a few moments of regarding his brother, wanting to help but not wanting to make Mariku even angrier, Marik followed suit, just barely brushing his fingers over Mariku's arm as he went.

When he stepped off the bottom stair, he noticed Bakura waiting in the doorway of the kitchen. Like a dog, he thought to himself, but kept it to himself.

Bakura considered him for a moment, then spoke. "Brother?" He looked pointedly at the ceiling.

Marik rolled his eyes. "Gee, how'd you guess?" He ducked passed him into the kitchen, riffling through the cupboards until he found some painkillers. A headache had sprung up sometime during his and Bakura's conversation, and it was just getting worse the more he saw the specter. He popped two and swallowed them without water, then sat himself at the island counter that separated the kitchen from the dining room. With a sigh, he laid his cheek on the counter, relishing in the chill of it against his burning face.

"He seemed like a real sweetheart." Bakura parked himself on the stool next to Marik's, putting his chin in his hand. Marik barely looked up at him.

"I'm not dropping this." He sat up quickly, pausing as his pulse banged against his temples in protest. After a wince, he scowled at Bakura. "I'm going to take a shower, and then I'm going to have a very long nap. After that, you and me are going to watch as many chick flicks as it takes for you to learn how to love."

Bakura raised his eyebrow and stared at him for a long moment, just waiting for him to say he was kidding and that they were actually going to go on and find him a date. When he never did, Bakura threw his head back and laughed loudly. Marik tried not to wince and rolled his eyes once more, leaving his ghost in the kitchen to laugh as he made his way to the bathroom. Oh, this was going to be the worst nine days ever.

**First off, I apologize for taking off and adding on so many of the chapters seemingly willy nilly. I promise I know what I'm doing! **

**I rewrote it because my internet was out and I was DYING to write something. I tried starting chapter 5 (oops I haven't done that yet?) but nothing came to me, so I just reread all the previous chapters to hopefully spark some inspiration. Needless to say this chapter was not the best (but you all knew that) and I couldn't stand it being like that anymore. So it got a complete makeover. Chapter 4 will probably get one too! I hope you all are able to read this because it's now 5 AM and I have somewhere to go today. I DID THIS FOR YOU! **


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